


Next Door Nightmares

by iamshirelocked



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamshirelocked/pseuds/iamshirelocked
Summary: When Lily Westbrook returned from college to her parent’s new, cozy townhome in the Illinois suburbs with white siding and a brown-scale roof, the last thing she expected to happen was catching a fatal, uncontrollable case of sleep deprivation thanks to a rowdy rock band that lived next door.
Relationships: Joe Trohman/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Pete Wentz & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. A Loud Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I wrote this when I was a sophomore in high school and I'm currently trying to clean out my google drive, so here we are! This is one of the longest fics I ever wrote and it's not complete, but if for some reason it blows up I might just have to continue it haha. Enjoy!

When Lily Westbrook returned from college to her parent’s new, cozy townhome in the Illinois suburbs with white siding and a brown-scale roof, the last thing she expected to happen was catching a fatal, uncontrollable case of sleep deprivation thanks to a rowdy rock band that lived next door.

Granted, she was sure that an entire band didn’t live there, because Lily’s father mentioned that a ‘really nice family’ occupied 4607 Deviation Road, but  _ someone _ in that family was in a band. And said band sure as hell used the basement as their practice spot every night at inhuman hours. Lily was given the unfortunate pleasure of earning the medium-sized bedroom in the basement, allowing her to fall victim to the thumping bass and sizzling cymbals every night. 

It had been only mildly annoying at first, with the loud amplifiers keeping her awake so she could be inspired to actually do some of her winter break work. She would video call Rachel, scribble down some film ideas, type up a screenplay for the semester project in her film major, maybe even settle down with a book. But now it had been two weeks since Lily came back from school, and she had tallied nine nights in which the guitar rung through the wall, and that loud, nasally voice belted high notes and low notes and everything in between. Nine nights that she failed to get her eight hours. Nine days in which she  _ could _ have been fully rested and not feel like she was going to fall asleep as she walked up the stairs. Lily’s patience was fraying like a loose string on a sweater, slowly picking apart her ‘cool’ and rage stitching itself together from the remaining fabric. She was done spending her time off from school slugging around like she was still  _ at _ school, trying to ignore her mother’s attempts to persuade her from out underneath her red and white-striped duvet.

So, when her mother approached her a few days into December with news of the neighborhood Christmas party, she was reluctant to accept...until her mother mentioned a key piece of information that could have resulted in her approval of the gathering.

“Lily, it’s just next door...you can’t even come over for--”

“Wait,” Lily whipped her head around from the television, where a  _ Buffy _ rerun played. She didn’t bother to pause it; the remote was on the other side of the room and hopefully this conversation wouldn’t last too long. “Next door? Which next door?”

“4607--the Wentz’s. Really nice family…” Normally, Lily wasn’t a party girl, preferring to stay home and marathon Christmas movies and drink tea over being surrounded by sweaty, drunk adults. But, that fact alone would certainly change her mindset...maybe...just for one night. A grin creeped its way onto her pale lips. “You have to come over...for at least a half hour. It’s not going to be like those college parties, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, no...I think I’ll come.” Her mother quirked a brow, in disbelief at such a sudden change in heart. Lily wanted to avoid telling her about her desire to meet a certain family member--if he was even going to be at the party--so she pressed her with questions before her mother could do the same to her. “When is it, again?”

“Saturday.”

“Cool, I’ll...uh...I’ll drop by for a bit, sure.”

A puzzled expression etched itself onto her mother’s face, but she didn’t question Lily. A face of reassurance and satisfaction quickly swapped with the confused one, and the middle-aged woman turned on her heel and trotted up the stairs to the main floor. Lily turned back to the basement’s old, block television, leaning back against the faded green cushions of the couch and crunching a popcorn kernel between her teeth.

Two episodes later, when Lily was yawning from exhaustion from a long and illustrious day of catching up on the previous season of  _ Buffy _ , the brunette trudged up the stairs. Scuffing her mix-matched socks across the linoleum, she reached into the pantry to snatch up a strawberry cereal bar. As she went to make her way out of the kitchen and down the stairs, she caught a glance at the clock: ‘1:12AM’.

_ Well, if they’re going to practice, it’s going to be now… _

As her covered feet collided with the carpeted steps, Lily opened the packaging on her early morning snack, the wrapper crinkling as it revealed the processed pastry. Lily took a bite as she reached the bottom of the steps and made a beeline for her bedroom (but not after flipping off the lightswitch for the basement living room).

She shuffled her socks along the carpet, placing the half-eaten food on her nightstand before climbing on top of her bed and making her way closer to the cream colored wall. Lily’s bed was placed in a way that the left side was right next to the barrier between the two basements. She gingerly placed her ear against the drywall, holding her breath and trying to catch any sound coming from the other side.

_ No sounds...am I free to fall asleep? I don’t hear anythi-- _

Just then, with a loud  _ whang! _ , a power chord phased through the wall, colliding with Lily’s temple. The guitar continued playing, screeching to a riff that Lily had heard many times before, as she would lay awake listening to the next door band practice the same three songs. She shifted away from the wall, releasing a breath and squinting her eyes from the sudden burst of sound. Lily leaned back on her bed, aimlessly reaching her hand outwards and groping for a crinkling wrapper until her hand landed right on its bull's-eye. She brought the cereal bar to her mouth and took a large bite as the singer joined in with the first verse.

It was going to be a long night.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

“Honestly, I don’t even know how I’m making it through the day without falling asleep...I swear yesterday I almost fell asleep while I was walking to my car,” Lily complained to her redheaded girlfriend, Rachel. She leaned forward over the camera, twirling her curly locks around her finger. “I’m just so tired all the fucking time.”

“ _ Go confront them, _ ” Rachel had always been outgoing and aggressive, much unlike Lily. After all, Rachel’s extreme personality was what had brought them together. Lily had been at one of the few college parties she attended--a Halloween one, at her roommate’s request--and Rachel drunkenly approached her and they talked for hours. From there, a friendship developed into something slightly more than a friendship, but that was a whole different story. “ _ You mentioned they would be at that party on Saturday, tell ‘em then! _ ”

“Well--there’s the chance that it could just be  _ one _ of them.” Lily leaned back in her desk chair, her chartreuse eyes downcast at the carpet. “Or he could just not show up at all.”

“ _ But, if he shows up, tell him to stop practicing. _ ”

“It could even be an all-girl band...with a male singer? Or a female singer with a really masculine-ish voice...or--”

“ _ Lily. _ ”

“Yeah?”

Rachel stared intently at Lily through the screen, and the brunette raised an eyebrow in reply, ushering Rachel to answer her nonverbal question. “ _ Promise me that when you go to the party, if whoever the hell is in that band is  _ at that party _ , you will confront them and tell them to shut the fuck up. _ ”

Lily nodded. “I promise.”

“ _ Good, _ ” And with that, Rachel rambled on about herself, something she loved to do. Lily was used to it at this point: she would tell a story or complain about her strict parents, Rachel would give some basic, obvious advice, and then spiral off into her many misadventures. Every now and again, Lily would smile, add in a bit of commentary and jokes into the usually repetitive story. At one point, Rachel had run out of things to say and the conversation bounced over to Lily once again for a brief few minutes. The two girls talked for hours, and for a while, Lily nearly forgot about the issue of the next-door nightmare as they tumbled back and forth between stories and complaints and questions. That night, for the first time in forever, the band decided not to practice.

_ Thank God. _

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

For the rest of the week, Lily’s life was hell. Sure, the band didn’t practice the night Rachel told her about how their friend, Jake, fell asleep at some party, but they did the following night. And the night after that...and the night after that.

On Wednesday, the day after her call with Rachel, she had been curled up on the couch, typing away on her chunky laptop and sipping Earl Grey. She spent the entire day shopping for Christmas presents and was hopefully planning on a repeat of the previous night. However, the band decided to blast a song with a walking bass line and repetitive drum beat...something about dancing and drinking and mattresses.

On Thursday, she was utterly miserable. Her mother forced her to go grocery shopping, resulting in the sleep-deprived college student dragging her feet across the crystal, white tiles, sloppily grabbing boxes of Kraft mac and cheese off various shelves. She managed to squeeze in a cat nap before dinner, but her bliss was short lived. Her mother--forgetting that she was a vegetarian--prepared a chicken dinner. Lily scowled at it when she saw it, and made herself a grilled cheese as a substitute. She knew that the band wasn’t to blame for her parents’ mistake, but she had already been in a bad mood because of them, so her mind immediately cursed the next-door band at the sore sight. It was like when your school didn’t cancel because of the snow, and you knew that it wasn’t the superintendent’s fault, but every single student shot blame at the school district leader’s face. As if her day wasn’t going bad enough, they played again--a mixture of all the songs she had heard. The beat kept time with her pounding head, and every time she shut her eyes, hoping for the sweet embrace of sleep to take her away, the singer would hit a flat high note and make her jump higher than the Empire State Building.

On Friday, she somehow convinced her parents to let her stay home from their ‘family’ trip to the mall for  _ even more _ Christmas shopping (how many friends did her mother have?) so she could catch up on sleep. After a cup of morning tea and some microwave waffles, Lily literally spent the entire day fast asleep, curled underneath three layers of blankets. There was no sound. Dinner consisted of delivery pizza and Lily took a quick peek out the window to see the first snow trickling down from the heavens as the sun creeped behind the horizon.  _ Hmm...maybe the snow will bring a motherfucking miracle.  _ She hoped (and maybe even started to believe) that this was magic snow that would somehow, in some way, compel the band to not practice that night. She was wrong.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

By the time Saturday rolled around, Lily was beyond pissed. She stormed up the stairs at twelve pm, ignoring the freshly laid two-inch layer of snow burying the grass outside, and poured milk in her cereal with as much angst as one can have while pouring milk in cereal. A snow plow hummed outside, clearing the dusting off of the suburban road as she shoved spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into her mouth. 

She spent the rest of the day, as usual, watching television, planning out the momentous night ahead of her. What she would say that night would--more or less--determine how the rest of her winter break went. She laid around, watching the previous night’s installment of  _ Lost  _ and at three o'clock, Lily began to get ready. Of course she wouldn’t arrive on time; she planned on knocking on the door a good thirty minutes after her parents left--what most people would call being ‘fashionably late’. 

At three twenty-one, she climbed out of the shower, immediately squeezing the sopping water out of her shoulder-length hair. She quickly dried off her body before throwing on a robe and twisting the knob on her closet door. She perused the array of long-sleeved shirts, jackets, and sweaters that hung in the small room, emerging with a tight black shirt paired with a matching skirt and a red cardigan.

Once she applied a bit of makeup, Lily resumed her binge watching position, settling on a movie channel which had just begun a showing of  _ The Princess Bride _ . The next few hours were spent fussing over Buttercup and Humperdinck and Westley’s fluctuating love triangle, which Lily had done many times before, but she never got tired of the cliche love-hate relationship between the three. The movie ended at six, and Lily eagerly shut off all of the electricity in the basement and bounded up the stairs like it was Christmas. She slipped on some one-inch heels, snatched up her purse, and bolted into the slushy, melting snow, ready to change her life and speak to the infamous ‘Peter Wentz’.


	2. The Christmas Party

Peter Wentz was a relatively short man, with straightened black hair and an extremely blinding grin. He wore pants too tight for anyone's liking, and at that time, a baggy Christmas sweater had been pulled over his head, hiding his assumingly skinny form and the lower portions of his neck. Lily observed as he strutted over to a group of three other boys, a  _ Bud Lite _ loosely dangling in his left hand. 

The other boys--whom Lily assumed to be his friends (and maybe even part of the band? she hoped?)--were of varying heights. The shortest (who seemed to be the same height as Peter) sported a jet black trucker hat and a deep red sweatshirt. His reddish-blonde hair reached down to his chin in sideburns, and his figure was certainly on the chubbier side. The first thing anyone would notice about the tallest was that he had a mass of brown curl propped on his head, which stuck out in so many directions that the hair vaguely reminded Lily of Harry Potter...but if the boy wizard had extremely curly light brown hair and not jet black straight hair. Curly was engaged as he took a swig of Peter's beer (Peter snatched it away moments later) and he wore cuffed jeans and a  _ Green Day _ tee. The second-tallest was a man whose arms were coated in multicolored ink, and crinkled, ginger hair fell down just below his ears. Thin-rimmed glasses were perched upon his nose and his awkwardly adorable smile never ceased to fade as he laughed at a joke Curly had made.

Lily debated whether or not to approach the group (they had to be the annoying band...right?).  _ C'mon. Do you want a good night's sleep or not, Lily? _

She habitually pushed downwards on her skirt and, as confidently and convincingly as she could, swaggered her way over to the band, her heels clacking on the dark hardwood of the Wentz’s living room. She tapped a chipped, manicured finger on Peter's shoulder and he whipped around to face the brunette. His eyes widened.

"Hi...you're Peter, right?"

“Pete,” He corrected her quickly, leaning up against the nearby wall. "That's my name. I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

Lily shot him an incredulous look. "Lily...Lily Westbrook. You..er, you probably know my mom. She's the one who made the cookies." The brunette waved a hand nonchalantly over to the table, where sprinkle-dusted sugar cookies laid on a platter. 

"Your mom's cookies rock!" Curly beamed, eyes darting back to the platter. Pete shot him a glare and turned his attention back to Lily, who held in a laugh. Since when were bassists this cocky?

"Well, Lily. I haven't seen you around the neighborhood before...you a college student?"

"Yeah...NYU." She stammered, beginning to fumble with the hem of her skirt. "Are  _ you _ a college student?"

“I’m a dropout,” He seemed to think it was cool. But Lily thought it was embarrassing--his suave attempts being shattered by the poorly knit dancing snowman sweater he sported. “I decided to quit so I could focus on my music. With these guys,” he gestured back to the three boys, who sheepishly smiled. He never took his light brown eyes off of Lily, scanning her for God knew what as he waved his right hand in the direction of his friends. “We’re in this band; Fall Out Boy. I’m the bassist, Patrick here’s the singer,” he gestured to Sideburns, then Curly. “Joe’s on guitar, and Andy’s got drums. We’re pretty awesome...got a record and everything.”

Lily didn’t reply. A break formed in the conversation, and Pete’s facial expression gave hints that he wanted her to say something along the lines of ‘Wow! So Hot!’ or ‘Band guys are so cute--will you date me?’. Lily frowned, thinking it would be a good time to bring up the late night rehearsals she’d been listening in on, but Pete continued before the thought was even a fully-formed idea. “Take this to Your Grave--released it last year. I could get you a free copy, if you want.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek. She wanted to gag.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve already got tons of CD’s back home,” she took a step back. “Plus, I hear enough of your music when it blasts through the basement walls and keeps me up all night.” 

Patrick slapped a hand to his mouth, obviously stifling a laugh. Andy looked from side to side frantically, and Joe had rushed off to the sugar cookie platter some time earlier. Pete looked as if he had been betrayed. Lily smirked, satisfied with the delivery and the outcome of her statement.

“I mean, going back to school will be a breeze. At least I’ll be able to get a three-hour sleep there.”

Patrick shot his hand up, eyebrows sinking as he stepped in front of a shell-shocked Pete. “Wait, are you serious? Are we keeping you up?” 

“Every night,” she gritted, eyes narrowing at the now angry person hiding behind Patrick. “You really need to not practice in the middle of the night.”

“We can totally stop.”

Andy piped up, “We can practice in my garage.”

“Yeah.” Patrick raised his eyebrows. “I’m so,  _ so _ sorry we’re ruining your Christmas break. We’re all night owls, you see--”

“You can still practice, just not when half the neighborhood is trying to sleep.”

Patrick sighed. “Good point. We’re all, truly, very sorry.”

Pete scoffed. Something about that scoff told her Pete wasn’t, in the slightest bit, feeling bad or sorry. “So, I take it you still don’t want the album?”

“Like I said before: thanks, but no thanks.” A repetitive trill sounded from Lily’s pocket, and her telling them off was interrupted as she fished for her phone in the fabric. She reached it out, seeing a recent text from Rachel. The brunette sighed. “I’d better get going. Nice meeting…most of you.” Lily turned, but after a step whipped back around to face Patrick trying to talk some sense into Pete. “Also, great song--the Dance one. It’s gonna be a hit.”

“Thanks.” Andy cracked a smile, but Lily was already gone in the sea of slightly drunk adults and blasting carols.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily crossed her legs on the brown couch in the living room, her thumbs rapidly pressing the keys on her on her flip phone. She had managed to stay away from the bulk of the party, with most of the adults chatting away in the nearby kitchen. She also swore she saw Pete and his friends slug their way down into the basement (her curious side wanted to follow them and see the basement that they loved  _ so much _ , but she decided against it to salvage her chances at not being an awkward mess). The film major diverted her attention back to her sky blue phone, where a new text message from Rachel awaited.

Rachel:  so you did it??

Lily:  Yupp

Lily: __ I think it worked too. they seem pissed but also really sorry

Rachel:  niceee

Lily:  I’m so pumped man

Rachel:  wait

Rachel:  do u have pics of them

Lily:  No

Rachel:  get pics

Lily:  They’re in basement. I can’t

Rachel:  ughhhh

Lily frowned as a cheering sound and the sound of shattering glass filtered in from the kitchen. She figured this was a good time to leave. Her parents had seen her talking to that one married couple...right? Even if they didn’t, Lily carefully clicked her heels out the raspberry door and back to the Westbrook residence. At that point, the snow was all melted, leaving a soggy, muddy residue on the dying grass.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

The following morning, Lily woke up at a relatively humanlike hour and climbed up the steps, an aura of pride filling up her personal bubble from the previous night’s implied victory. When she arrived in the kitchen and slid across the tiles like she was an olympic ice skater, she was immediately ambushed with questions about the party, and why she was only there for less than a half an hour, to which she replied that it “wasn’t her crowd”. Her parents asked her what she did while at the rather tame house party, and she replied that she was just texting her friend the whole time. Her parents frowned, and then brought up the fact that the Wentz’s had a son around her age, and how she could have talked to him. Lily crinkled her nose in disgust.

“Hey,” Lily mentioned, hoping to change the subject as she pried open the fridge and lifted up the carton of whole milk. “I’m thinking of trying out some vegetarian-protein recipe things today, if that’s cool.”

Lily had adopted the vegetarian lifestyle after her film class watched a documentary on the food industry towards the middle of her sophomore year. Her first anniversary of cutting out meat would be coming up in March (the fourth, to be exact) and her diet consisted mainly of cheap carbs, processed candies, and--of course--tea. The lifestyle had taken it’s toll; she was slender and willowy, and not the kind that was attractive. In fact, when she moved out of her dorm in for junior year, her stoner ex-roommate thought she was anorexic. She had been hoping to try out some tofu or protein supplements to sway the accusations, but her college diet of ramen and processed snack foods limited her cooking time.

“Fine with me,” Her mother replied, scooping some bacon into her mouth. “Do you want me to help?”

“Nah, I found this cool recipe online that I think I can follow.”

“Alright.”

Lily smiled, and shoved some  _ Pop Tarts _ into the toaster. She was happy, shining from the inside out. And from what she could tell, the rest of the day would make her feel no different.


	3. Into the Basement

Maybe they didn’t understand her. She had clearly stated  _ not _ to practice at four in the morning. Patrick and Andy had stated that they would practice at Andy’s house. But for some reason, they were continuing to practice late into the night, only blasting one song: the Dance one. Lily was beyond mad that they hadn’t listened to her, and kind of mad at herself for mentioning she liked the Dance one.

_ Maybe they just forgot. Patrick’ll remind them. Maybe Andy’s garage was full and he has to clean it out first. I’ll let it slide this time. _

But they played again the night after.

And the night after that.

And the fourth night in a row. They only played the single song over and over and over again. And Lily was about to explode.

It was twelve oh three when Lily had enough. She threw her cauliflower mac and cheese onto the basement living room table, slipped on her bunny slippers, snatched up a flashlight, and stormed up the stairs and out the front entrance. The windchill had to be ten below, and Lily was shivering nonstop in the bitter Chicago air, but that didn’t stop her from banging two fists on the Wentz’s door.

Nobody answered.

Lily’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed a finger against the doorbell.

“Psst--Lily.”

The sound came from a source she couldn’t place. It seemed nearby...but as many times as the brunette spun around in circles, not a single person could be seen.

“Lily!”

She peeked in through a small window on the side of the door. The lights were off, the foyer pitch black. Lily flicked on the flashlight and waved it around the front yard like a searchlight looking for escaping prisoners.

“Look on the side. On the ground.” 

Cautiously, Lily turned her head to the foundation of the house. Sure enough, one of the windows was propped open and Pete Wentz’s face peeked out from the small opening, grinning like an idiot as he pointed his own flashlight right in Lily’s eyes. “What the hell are you doing in there?”

“Come on! The window’s big enough for you to squeeze through.”

“What?! No!”

“My parents have an alarm system on the front door. Just...just come on.”

Lily probably should have went home, or continued to bang on the wooden door just to get Pete in trouble. But instead, she turned to the bassist and reluctantly approached the window. The leaves crackled underneath her soft slippers that probably shouldn’t have been worn in that weather and the wind whistled through the silent air. She crouched down to look at Pete. 

“Okay, so lay on your stomach and slowly slide in. It’s easier than it sounds.” She followed his instructions, and after a few minutes of struggling, found herself on the concrete floor of the Wentz's basement certain that she had a splinter in her pinky. “So, you came back.” The bassist took strides out of the small room they were in. Lily followed him into a new, much larger room. This one was carpeted, with a desk and large couch sitting in the corner. Most of the space, however, was taken up by a plethora of musical instruments. It was a nice practice space, she had to admit. She could understand why someone would get emotionally attached to practicing here, but it was still no excuse for them purposefully keeping her awake at such late hours.

“Yeah, you didn’t stop playing.” As Lily peered more around the room, she noticed the three boys plopped down on the couch. Joe laid back against the cotton sofa, strumming his six-string guitar with the volume nearing silent. Patrick had an annoyed expression etched onto his face and was fiddling with the hem of his light blue sweater while Andy’s lips smacked on some baby carrots. Lily scowled.

"Why didn't you stop rehearsing this late? I asked you nicely."

"That's not what I heard," Joe blurted out, his gaze still fixated on the Fender. "Pete said you sassed him to the moon and back." He laughed, earning a slap on the arm with a carrot from Andy. Joe shut up and turned back to his guitar, strumming the riff to the Dance song. Lily frowned, shaking her head and turning back to the clear culprit of her insomnia.

Pete snatched up one of the redhead's snacks and took a loud, crunching bite. "Andy's place is busy. His parents--"

"Actually," Patrick interrupted, shooting up off of the couch with his eyes wide and his hands spread in annoyance. "Andy was just fine with practicing at his house. Pete just wanted to hang out with you again." The bassist shot a deadly look at his friend, but Patrick didn't tear his eyes away from Lily.

"I said I didn't want the record."

"I tried to tell him, but he refused to leave the house...we had to practice somewhere!"

Lily sighed, her eyes narrowing at the band and her stomach churning with newfound rage. "So...now you're keeping me up on purpose?"

Nobody replied, so Lily took it as confirmation. She threw her hands in the air, storming to the other side of the room, ready to go off. Deep down, she knew that Patrick, Andy, and Joe (okay, maybe Joe; he hadn’t defended her in any way yet) weren’t to blame. But she was so annoyed and blinded by fury that she couldn’t help but call out the short man.

“That’s real kind of you.” Sarcasm laced her voice as she turned to leave through the window once more. She asked herself why she even came down there in the first place. It was just a waste of time. She scoffed. “If someone asked  _ me _ to stop practicing...or...or to stop making tons of fucking noise at night, you know what I would do? I would be a kind person and stop.”

“Well we’re not you,” Pete stood up, his eyebrows pushing themselves closer together and his eyes wild with mischief. “It’s my property, I do what I want.”

“But when someone asks you to do something because it is ruining their winter break, you push all of the shit away and respect their sleep schedule.”

“I’m  _ clearly _ older than you”

“Don’t go on with that bullshit,” Lily whipped around, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. “Yeah, it’s a free country and all, and you’re a few years older, but I have a documentary I need to make and a shit ton of fucking college work that I need to get done by next month and if I’m sleep deprived it won’t happen!” She heaved, pointing a finger at the bassist as she calmed down. “You have the option to practice at Andy’s house.”

“But his basement is small--”

“I don’t care!” Lily threw her hands up in the air, and rustling came from upstairs, followed by footsteps from the main floor. “Just--just practice there until January fifteenth, mkay? Just so I can get some goddamn sleep…” Lily turned around, speeding out of the room. She picked at her finger, feeling around for the sharp pain of a splinter. Her finger rubbed across the wooden piece and she flinched as pain shot up her hand as she heaved herself up out of the window and back home once more.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

The next morning, Lily planned to meet with one of her old high school friends for lunch and ice cream. She sported an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, and didn’t even dare to think about the previous night as she slid into her car and drove off to the local cafe.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

She arrived back home at four in the afternoon with an aching stomach and a thin wallet. She scuffed her feet into the kitchen after noticing her parents weren’t home (probably went out to dinner) to hopefully video chat with Rachel for the rest of the night. As her bare feet collided against the harsh cold of the tiles, she shivered as she noticed something laying flat on the table. It had a note attached to it and Lily’s first instinct was to think it was leftover mail for her. She frowned. Lily squinted her eyes, noticing that it was blue; it contrasted from the red and white of the tablecloth greatly. Her frown deepened as she approached it cautiously, like it was a closed door in a horror movie and she didn’t know what monster laid behind. And when she snatched it up, her frown turned into a grimace in a second flat.

She guessed they didn’t catch her memo. In her hands was a signed copy of ‘Take this to Your Grave’. By the one and only  _ Fall Out Boy _ .

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

On December tenth, Lily sat on her computer, aimlessly clicking on and deleting emails, ignoring the CD that sat on her nightstand, when she noticed an email from her film teacher. She squinted at the small print of the subject, which read  _ Winter Break Work _ . Sighing in annoyance, the film major clicked on the email and quickly skimmed it.

_ Students, _

_ If you recall from our last class, I would be sending you all your winter break work sometime in December. So, here it is! For your winter break work, I want you all to create a creative documentary that tells a story. That is your only criteria. We will be sharing them when we come back to school in February. _

_ Along with the documentary, I ask that you all watch three movies and do a film analysis on them. These will be due a week after we get back. _

_ Please email me if you have any inquiries on the assignment. _

_ Good luck,  _

_ Professor E. Hamilton _

Lily leaned forward, laying her head against the surface of the desk. At least she had stopped the boys from playing (they hadn’t played for two nights, which was--according to Lily--a new record), but now she had a shit ton of homework to do for her major. Winter break was going to be hell.


	4. The Prisoner of Azkaban

Lily’s love for filmmaking started when she was only eight years old, when she made her first ever movie.

It was a pretty lame movie--just a thirty minute compilation of her and her childhood friend Celia putting on cliche and outrageous skits. There was one based on the premise of an old woman in a shop who helped a young woman in a lightning storm (the main prop being Celia’s little sister’s toy kitchen set), one involving a recreation of the Revolutionary War, and one even put two polar opposites against each other: magic and music. Looking back on those poorly written ideas, Lily would cringe. But then she would remember that she filmed and edited each skit all by herself at age eight--even if it was just cutting scenes together with no special effects--and reminded herself that the lame excuse for a comedy film was the start of a lifelong passion.

Filmmaking followed Lily all throughout her childhood. She would recreate scenes from  _ Star Wars _ with her neighbors (she would always be Han Solo--her childhood crush), and when in high school, she even took a class in filmmaking and animation. She began to sketch and edit more, and for her fifteenth birthday, her parents bought her a computer with an incredibly high-tech editing software. She became addicted to filmmaking and would often analyze films for their meaning and symbolism.

When college apps rolled around, Lily knew her parents would want her to go for something practical, like Law (which she had expressed small interest in), and the obvious one: Medical School. Lily’s father had a PhD in Pharmaceutical Sciences, and he clearly wanted his only daughter to follow in his footsteps. Somehow--with many arguments and convincing slideshows--Lily convinced them to let her apply to a prestigious film program in New York, to which she later got accepted and now attended.

She was now two and one half years into her film school, and had already begun to plan out her future. She planned on moving out to Hollywood, maybe try to do some minor editing on movies and films. Maybe even attend the Disney Animation School.

She had no clue that that was very different from what would  _ actually _ happen.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

“ _ Okay...but do you know what you’re going to do for it? _ ”

Lily shook her head. “No clue.”

Rachel sighed over the screen, drumming her fingernails on her wooden desk impatiently. “ _ Maybe you could do the kind of thing that Mark does in RENT? Uh...with the whole exploring the city ‘n shit--except yours would be in Chicago... _ ”

“Maybe,” Lily shrugged. “But he did that over a year, not a month and a half.” The brunette ran a hand through her hair, sighing in exasperation. “ _ Why _ do I have so much work over break...it’s called  _ break _ for a reason. And then he sends it nearly two weeks into December? How on Earth am I going to get this done?”

Rachel’s face lit up suddenly, and her hand slammed on the counter. “ _ You could do a Christmas documentary--with your family and all. _ ”

Lily nodded, her brows furrowing. “Maybe...but I can’t exactly set up a studio at my Aunt’s house.”

“ _ It’s just an idea...I dunno... _ ”

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Gripping her medium popcorn, Lily strutted into theater six with a shit-eating grin and a box of  _ Raisinets _ . It was moderately full; the movie was  _ The Prisoner of Azkaban _ , and since it was such a huge franchise, it wasn’t a surprise to her to see that even three weeks after the release, families were still flocking to the movies. Today, most of the families had accumulated towards the back, leaving only the middle sections open. Lily sighed, bolting up the cheaply carpeted steps to the farthest row back with middle seats available. Whipping her head around, she saw her parents were still heaving themselves up, but she tossed her coat and purse on the chairs to her right to reserve their seats. Eventually her parents occupied seats to the right of her, and the loud talking of the pre-previews flooded the large room. Unlike her parents, Lily gingerly placed her popcorn on the ground. She had a bad habit of finishing the popcorn before the movie even started. Her main goal today was to wait (though she knew that probably wouldn’t happen).

Everything was all fine and dandy until the previews were about to start. Lily’s mind was racing with the possible book to movie mistakes that would be made and the fact that there was a new movie to fuel her obsession of the series. The lights dimmed and the screen lit up the room, flashing through a pre-made scene which reminded the audience to turn off their phones. Lily leaned back, slurping a bit on the water bottle she snuck in when she saw two figures entering the theater. Lily sat forward a bit, her eyes squinting at the pair. Her mind stopped racing, and switched to panic mode within seconds.

It was Joe.

As in Joe from Fall Out Boy.

Joe from Fall Out Boy was walking into her theater. Watching the same showing of  _ The Prisoner of Azkaban _ as her.

She slid deeper into her chair, her eyes widening and her heart racing. When she had thought about the next time she would run into one of the guys, she had been expecting to see one of them in front of Pete’s house, or when they for some reason decided to continue playing, or if they confronted her, or...just anywhere that wasn’t  _ here _ . Lily was expecting to have a nice day of Harry Potter festivities, not a day of torturous panic from the Potter look-alike. She was incredibly irritated. It seemed that whenever Lily was having a relatively fun time on this break, Pete and his band would find some way to unknowingly ruin it for her.

Lily let out a groan, rolling her eyes and drawing unwanted attention from her father. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She blurted out a little too quickly, and a little too loudly. Joe glanced up to her, and Lily’s heart sank. She attempted to hide herself in her hands as Joe turned to his friend (someone she hadn’t seen before--or just couldn’t recognize in the almost pitch darkness) and began to make his way up the carpeted steps. Lily’s breathing hitched. Curly and his friend ended up choosing the seats right in front of Lily and her parents.

At first, Lily tried to convince herself that they sat there because it was a nice view. Lily didn’t mind too much…until Joe turned around to face her.

“Hey.”

Lily let out a breath and slowly peeked her face out from her hands. The guitarist was grinning like a fucking idiot, and Lily frowned, looking up to the screen. “Hello, Joe.” 

“Oh, Lily; who’s this?” Her mother perked up, whispering over the preview for  _ Batman Begins _ . Lily froze.  _ No, no, no... _

“I’m Joe...Trohman. One of Pete’s friends.”

“So you  _ did  _ talk to Pete at the party then,” Lily’s mother observed, a smile much less intimidating than Joe’s appearing on her face and Lily wanted to slide off of her seat and onto the floor just to avoid being involved in this situation. “I told you he would be nice to talk to.” Her eyes darted back to Joe. “Were you at the party too?”

“Yeah. I spent most of the time at the food table--wonderful cookies, by the way.”

And he was using flattery. Lily sunk lower as her mother’s grin widened. “Why, thank you.” Lily felt the need to end this quickly. She did not want her mother liking Joe. She did not want her mother to make her hang out with Pete and his friends more. It would be her number one goal to NOT have this go as she thought it would.

“Hey, the movie’s about to start. So, Joe, I’ll--er--I’ll see you around...hm?” She raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening and hopefully in a not pleading and begging way.

“The previews just started.”

“Maybe I like to watch the previews?”

“From what I know, you don’t like unnecessary noise, unnecessary things.” Joe raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you, Lily?” 

She frowned, huffing and leaning forward. She lowered her voice to a whisper, “Can we please talk about this later?”

“Talk about what? The fact that you snuck out the other night to watch our band practice?”

“Wait, woah,” Lily held her hand up, shushing Joe and whipping her head over to her parents. “That’s a lie--”

“Or the fact that you don’t like rock music?”

“I never said that.”

Joe’s eyebrow shot up, his eyes glistening with mischief as Lily’s nostrils flared. “Or I could even bring up that one girl Andy saw you texting at the party--hearts by her name...”

Lily turned pale, and her confidence imploded. “How did you--”

“Cause I’d love to talk about those. Small talk, chit-chatting. It’s only the previews.” A smirk had creeped onto his face. He seemed to be enjoying this.

“Please.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he was clearly in deep thought. Lily’s eyes widened in alarm, and he could see she was getting desperate. Lily wasn’t out to her parents yet, and he was threatening to do it for her without a second thought. He crossed his arms. “My silence comes with a fee.”

Lily didn’t reply. She pondered. Was it worth it?

“I’ll pay it.”

“Go to the mall tomorrow at seven.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said so. Do you want me to be quiet, or not?”

Lily exhaled loudly, giving in. She glanced down at her beaten up converse, nodding. “I’ll be there.” 

Joe didn’t speak to her for the rest of the evening. The movie was amazing, temporarily obliviating her about the impending doom that would be tomorrow night at five, but every once in awhile she would glance down and see the stray curls sticking up from the row below and scowl. Either way, she left the theater with her parents (mostly her mother) bombarding her with questions: Who was Joe? Why did she know him so well? And then her mother--like usual--went into her usual schpiel that she had been doing ever since Lily was in middle school, where she told Lily how a certain boy was attractive and how she needed a boyfriend and how he seemed nice and all of that bullshit. She ignored her mother’s nagging, storming down to her room, certain of only one thing.

She hated,  _ hated _ Joseph Trohman.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Early the next morning, when Lily had been given the task to grab the newspaper off of the driveway, she noticed Pete Wentz packing up what she assumed to be his car with black cases shaped like guitars. She stopped for a second, scrutinizing the black  _ Toyota _ , and then the infamous bassist turned and their gazes met. They had what could be called a shortened version of a staring contest, ending thirty seconds in due to Lily blinking. She plastered a dirty look on her face, rolling her eyes before scurrying back into her house.


	5. The Life of the (After) Party

She arrived at the mall ten minutes late. 

Pushing open the heavy doors to the entrance of the shopping center, she quirked a brow upon spotting the growing crowd of teenagers with dyed hair and all-black outfits. They stalked around around the mall, shoulders hunched and lipstick-coated mouths chattering with enthusiastic and complaining tones. Lily shrugged, venturing past a few hair salons and a Chinese fast food restaurant before her black converse skidded to a halt.

Joe never told her where to meet him.

She frowned...if he was even going to be here. Knowing him, he would tell her to meet him at the fucking mall and ditch her just to make her feel shitty. Had he even confirmed that he would be there? She didn’t remember him saying that he would be at the mall...she was going to  _ kill _ Pete Wentz when she went home. But still, she continued on deeper into the mall, swerving in between shops and browsing both for products and her curly-haired frenemy. 

It wasn’t until she was looking down at the first floor from a balcony, gliding her tongue across a cone of half-melted vanilla ice cream from the food court that she saw something that could lead her to Joe. As she surveyed the teenagers with caked eyeliner and fishnet tights, searching for a brown-haired figure with buzzing blue eyes like it was a game of  _ Where’s Waldo? _ , she noticed that every single scene kid headed for the same place at the other end of the mall. She knit her brows together, lowering the cone for a second before setting off down the escalator and trailing behind the crowd.

As she followed a straight couple with matching blue hair and band tees closer and closer to their destination, music began booming from what appeared to be a small concert venue. Lily stifled a sigh, slumped her shoulders and seriously considered turning around and high-tailing right back to Deviation Road.

_ Joe did  _ not _ send me to one of their concerts...right? _

_ Wait--Pete was packing up fucking guitars this morning. _

_ Fuckfuckfuckfuck-- _

“Ticket?” The security guard--a burly man with a shaved head and light brown eyes--stopped her as she reached the entrance. 

“No, I...uh…” she stumbled over her words, gnawing on the inside of her lip. “I’m friends with...friends with Joe Trohman,” she choked on the word friend, but covered it up just as quickly as she had stuttered, “He told me to meet him here.”

The security guard shot an eyebrow up, scanning Lily and scoffing lightly. “ _ You’re _ friends with Trohman?” Lily nodded. “Wait here.”

The security guard nudged one of his coworkers on the forearm, whispering inaudibly in his ear before he disappeared behind a nearby door. The coworker took his place, scanning the stub for a teenager sporting a simple t-shirt and black jeans, blonde hair circling his head in a bowl haircut. Lily tapped her feet anxiously on the ground. Was it even worth it? She could always show him up...after all, she made that deal  _ yesterday _ . It wasn’t like he would go over to her house and tell her parents...plus he didn’t have any proof that Lily was a lesbian (even though she kinda was) other than a friend’s name with hearts by it. Rachel could have just been her closest,  _ closest _ best friend in the whole entire world. There were other conclusions that could have been drawn from that fact. Lily shrugged, smirking and beginning to turn around for the third time, but she heard someone call her name. She stilled.

“Lily! Hey!” Joe was standing in the doorway, a smirk stretching from ear to ear as he peeked over the shoulder of his security guard, waving eagerly. Lily nodded, forcing a smile to play on her lips, dragging the bottoms of her shoes along the floor and through the doorway.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

“What is  _ she _ doing here?” Pete glared at her, almost shattering his bass in the backstage area when she turned the corner with his bandmate.

Joe clapped a hand on her back, and she could imagine his grin from behind her. “I told her she should come tonight, you got a problem?” 

Pete’s facial expression said it all. His nostrils were upturned, his ears heating up to a bright red, his eyebrows turning inwards in frustration. He looked like one of those cartoon characters that was all red and about to go off on someone. However, unlike how the cartoon characters made Lily feel, this version of Pete made fear bubble in the pit of her stomach. He looked like Bruce Banner in the moments before he would turn into the Hulk. Pete clenched his fists, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stormed off in the other direction. Lily released a breath. “You made Pete  _ really _ mad.”

“Yeah--probably shouldn’t’ve done that,” Joe stepped in front of her, not bothering to go after Pete, and took a single potato chip from the catering table, “He gets really angry really quickly.”

“Ah…” Lily hummed, awkwardly tracing Joe’s footsteps along the black theater floor to the food table before grabbing a handful of Doritos. She raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m here now, you want me to watch your show, right?”

A laugh flew out of Joe’s lips, “You just missed our set.”

“Oh?”

“Yup, but there’s an after party if you wanna tag along.”

Lily deadpanned, her mind swimming with disbelief and annoyance, “Wait, you actually want me to hang out with you? After what happened the other night? You  _ still _ want to hang out with me?”

Joe shrugged, “Why not?”

Lily knit her brows together. This man was unbelievable. She stared at him, her mouth agape and her mind fishing for an answer to why he wanted to hang out with her so fucking much. Pete had clearly let it go--he didn’t want her within a ten foot radius of him--Patrick wanted her to avoid them at all costs for her own sake, and Andy didn’t seem to give a fuck. Why was Joe so hell bent on becoming her best friend? She scoffed at the curly-haired man, shaking her head.

“So...you coming?”

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

The party wasn’t in the back parking lot, and didn’t consist of a simple bonfire and some minor cases of weed smoking and a few shots. No, this party was at some band member from some other band that she didn’t know’s apartment, everyone was drunk, and she swore Pete had dragged some scene girl he had never met upstairs to fuck. Lily felt incredibly out of place; she had never been to a party this intense before in her whole life. She immediately regretted agreeing to carpool with Joe and Andy and Patrick (who made the wise decision to have Joe drop him off at his house; she was jealous of him). Now her car was all the way back at the mall, and she had come to terms with the fact that she was going to be stuck here for a long while. And with how rapidly Joe was consuming alcohol and the fact that he just tripped and almost knocked all of the red, plastic cups off of the beer pong table, she would probably be his designated driver...if he was sober enough to give her the right address.

Lily knew for a fact that almost everyone at this party was underage, but she didn’t mind it as much. In fact, she laid back on the couch, watching the beer pong tournament, sipping her own  _ Rolling Rock _ like the other twenty-year-olds. She always had a few drinks at parties, sometimes even got drunk if she felt like it, but it sickened her to see the drunken state of literally everyone else here. A part of her feared that if she let herself get too far under the influence tonight, things wouldn’t go well at all. 

She really wished she hadn’t come here.

On top of the fact that Joe was about to pass out and Pete was doing something unspeakable upstairs, Lily had absolutely no clue where Andy had disappeared to. So, when she saw him emerging from the hallway, she sat up, trying to check for any signs of alcohol on the redhead. He leaned against the tan archway, laughing as some blonde girl poured the contents of a red Solo cup all over her hair and spread it around like it was shampoo. Lily continued to stare at Andy...was giggling a sign of being drunk? Would she have to drive two moody musicians home? Was her life going to get any worse?

Andy shifted his weight and scuffed his feet into the living room, noticing Lily. The brunette freaked, quickly leaning back and putting the beer bottle to her lips again in an attempt to cover up her clear staring. Andy shuffled over to the torn up couch and plopped down right next to her, “Hey.”

Lily turned her head to Andy, the beer bottle still resting awkwardly on her lips. She lowered it with a jerk, forcing a smile. “Heyyy.”

“You..uh...you drink?”

Lily froze, and glanced at the glass bottle in her hands. “Sort of--I mean, not really,” She leaned to the side, raising her eyebrows, “Do _ you _ drink?”

“No,”  _ Hallelujah _ . “I’m straight edge.”

Lily furrowed her brows, pursing her lips and letting out a breath, “I’m going to sound really stupid, but what’s that?”

“Oh...it’s, uh, it’s a lifestyle, I guess,” Andy shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fumbling together as he tried to find an explanation, “I don’t do any drugs.”

“None?”

“None.”

Lily nodded her head, “Ah…that’s--that’s really smart.” she raised the beer bottle to her lips again, tilting it and gulping down some of the liquid.

“Yeah,” he giggled. “I’m vegan, too.”

Lily’s eyes widened, and she smiled at the fellow non-meat eater. “No way! I’m vegetarian!”

“That’s so cool!” he smiled, his thin lips parting and his blue eyes lighting up. “Pete’s vegetarian too.”

“Oh...uh...is he?”

“Yeah,” Of course Pete was a vegetarian. Not that it was bad or anything, but Lily wanted to avoid having any quality or trait in common with the bassist, and so far it had been working, but now that had changed. Lily nodded, placing her  _ Rolling Rock _ down on the coffee table and leaning sideways into the couch, facing Andy. She had to admit, so far he seemed like the one of Pete’s friends that was the least out to get her. “You and Pete made up, right?”

Oh wait, no, he thought that she was friends with them now. Wait... _ was _ she friends with them? No, she wasn’t. They stopped annoying her, sure, but Pete was being douchey to her and Joe was forcing her to go places with them. “No,” she began to fiddle with the hem of her green t-shirt, “No, no. We still hate each other.” Andy tilted his head to the side, looking downwards and biting his lip. “What?”

“Then why did you come to our show?”

“Because Joe threatened to out me to my parents if I didn’t come.” 

Andy nodded, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. “But then why did you come to the party?” he looked up again, head tilting to the side, “Joe didn’t force you to come _ here _ .”

Lily tilted her head, furrowing her brows and resting her chin on her hand. He had a point. She didn’t have to come here...why did she? Maybe it was because she felt she needed to make it up to Joe because she didn’t see their set. “I dunno…”

Andy shrugged and shook his head, “Nevermind, doesn’t matter,” he sighed, leaning back and his eyes drifting up to the pale ceiling, where someone had just splashed beer on to. They both fell silent.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

The two didn’t speak much for the remainder of the party and, eventually, Joe passed out. Andy and Lily looked at each other and exhaled in sync. Neither of them wanted to have to carry him out to his car, so they decided to use some teamwork to lug him to Andy’s car and the redhead drove Lily back to the mall so she could pick up her car. Lily thanked Andy for being so kind to her that evening, and maybe, sort of began to realize that she sort of, kind of thought Andy would be an actually decent friend.


	6. MySpace

Lily was sprawled out on the carpet, trying to ignore the fact that she was probably going to get extremely severe rug burn by the looks of how much she was wriggling around on it. A blue pen was gripped tightly in her hand, and she was chewing on the end, staring at the blank piece of notebook paper in front of her.

She had no ideas.

Lily rolled over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling and moving her neck from side to side, little crackling noises releasing the tension that had been there moments before. She laid her head back on the carpet, sighing and closing the lids of her eyes. She wasn’t exactly very religious, but she found herself doing a collective prayer to any god that may have existed in the world that she would find some possible idea for her documentary. She had been texting her fellow film majors: Jake, Emmeline, and Quentin, and apparently they had already begun filming  _ two days ago _ and here Lily was, drawing a blank. It probably didn’t help that she had been up so late the previous night, or that she didn’t work on any of it until now...but that was beside the point. She needed to get an idea and she needed to get it fast.

Lily heaved herself up and began pacing around her room.

_ I could try and maybe just do a set of movie reviews? ‘Best Movies of December 2004’...that could work...kill two birds with one stone. Wait, Hamilton’ll probably not accept it. Damn... _

She groaned, resisting the urge to hit her head against the wall repeatedly and plopped down on her bed, resting her head in the sweaty palms of her hands. Was she ever going to get an idea?

_ Nature documentary? No, you dipshit, you’re in a city… _

_ Ooh! Maybe I could just do...like...a social experiment? Having to do with how people react to certain situations...like a kidnapping in front of them? Oh wait...there’s already a show for that...and I would need actors. I don’t know any actors. _

“You know what?” Lily shot up, questioning no one in particular. She was done. She had literally scraped every crevice of her brain for ideas, yet it didn’t want to discover any tiny little treasures or pieces of gold that could lead to anything that was actually good. She considered texting Quentin...but she didn’t want to seem needy. He always took her clothed to the laundromat for her in freshman year and often was stuck giving her his homework to copy off of when she procrastinated. And Emmeline was on a wildlife-based vacation in Indonesia ( _ well that’s an easy documentary _ )...so her only option would be Jake. Honestly, Lily had only spoken to him as much as she did because he was Rachel’s best friend...plus, everyone knew Jake was incredibly inappropriate when it came to ideas. Honestly, Lily was surprised he hadn’t been kicked out of the school with all of the incredibly illegal things he had done.

So, she took the sheet of lined paper and pen, and placed it on her wooden desk. As usual, this would have to wait for a later time, when she had a spark of creativity and not when she was trying to force her brain to come up with something. She turned on her black laptop and logged into MySpace.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

“I love you.”

“ _ I love you more. _ ”

“I love you more than nature documentaries.”

“ _ I love you more than my hair. _ ”

“I love you more than tea.”

“ _ I love you more than  _ Fall Out Boy _. _ ”

Lily froze. “What?”

“ _ Fall Out Boy _ .” Rachel stated the name as if it was obvious. It rolled off of her tongue like she had said it a thousand times. “ _ I haven’t told you about them? _ ” The brunette shook her head, and Rachel giggled, “ _ Well, they’re this little known pop-punk band. They’re really cool. _ ”

Lily kept her eyes from widening in surprise. Wait--she listened to  _ Pete Wentz’s _ band? Really? Lily sighed. She thought she had escaped them. “I-I bet they are.”

She chuckled, “ _ You should listen to their album. I think you’d like their music. _ ”

“Maybe.” The brunette gnawed on her lip and looked looked away from the screen for a moment.  _ Should I tell her? _ Lily stared at the thick carpet, tapping her socked feet against the legs of the desk chair. 

Luckily, Rachel spoke first, allowing her more time to consider the pros and cons. She didn’t have to tell her tonight, anyway. There were tons of other times she could tell her. “ _ I’d better go to bed--gonna go Christmas shopping with Jake and Quentin tomorrow. Look up the audio files, kay? _ ”

Lily nodded, grinning. “Sleep well. Love you.”

“ _ Love you, too. _ ”

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily had no need to look up the audio files. She slid the blue  _ Take This to Your Grave _ CD into her laptop, grabbed a tall glass of water filled to the brim with ice, and sat through the whole damn thing. She noticed the Dance one wasn’t on it...or the one that she heard about being late...or the one about lies and believing them. Maybe they were for an upcoming album? Wait...did that mean she got a sneak peek at their new record?

Another thing she noticed were the annoying lengths of the song titles:  _ Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here) _ and  _ Tell That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today _ ? She shook her head. That was a mouthful. Sure, she had no clue about the even longer song titles on their upcoming albums (which she would actually find somewhat amusing), but at this point she frowned highly upon it.

However--though she hated to admit it--she did like the music itself. It was completely different from anything she had heard before. It’s catchy and cool beats caught her attention and she found herself wishing to hear more. She mentally applauded the band. Well, everyone except Pete. She didn’t like his screaming at all.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily had an idea. 

It was a long shot, but it was something that was actually tangible and she could probably get it done relatively quickly if she played her cards right. It had come to her when she was laying in bed one night, the family heating on too hot and the thermostat one floor up. She had decided to lay on top of the covers, because if she didn’t, she would probably be sweating her ass of and it would look like she peed the bed with all of the sweat puddles that would dampen it. Lily was staring at the ceiling, still adjusting back to her normal sleep schedule, when it slapped her in the face. She could go around to different pizza places in Chicago--the most buzzed about--and see which one has the absolute best deep dish. In order to maximize judging power, she called up the friend she had lunch with, childhood best friend Celia, and they would spend an entire day literally eating pizza. It was going to be amazing.

So here they were, on the sidewalks of the bustling streets of Chicago, cars honking, lights flashing, walking into  _ Petrelli's Pizza _ with a scarlet backpack stuffed with filming and editing equipment.

Celia skipped in; she was going to be the interviewer and main taste tester. Lily had to remain behind the Canon camera, resting it on her shoulder so her arms wouldn’t get sore. Celia whipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder and walked up to the counter. Lily shifted her weight, pushing her thumb on the  _ record _ button, a satisfying beep signaling Celia to begin her side of the job. If everything went to plan, maybe, just maybe, they could finish filming in only one day.

“So this place was founded in 1956, and according to a lot of my old high school friends, this place has the  _ best _ , most authentic deep dish around,” Celia rambled, talking with her hands as she backed up to the red and white ordering counter. The cashier--his nametag read ‘Kile’--raised an eyebrow at the pair. Celia noticed this, and supplied, “We’re filming a documentary about the best deep dish in Chicago...do you, do you mind if we film here?”

The cashier sighed, gnawing on his lip, and replied, “I don’t mind, obviously...but I dunno about the manager,” he scratched the back of his head, turning to the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I can go ask him real quick.”

Celia and Lily nodded and Kile bolted into the kitchen. The two college students exchanged nervous glances. “I really hope we can film this,” Lily muttered. “This is literally the only decent idea I’ve had.”

Just then, the cashier returned, nodding his head and grinning, “Boss said you can film here, but he doesn’t want any bad commentary about the pizza.” Lily furrowed her brows, looking down at the floor and lowering her camera. She nodded. “So, you guys want the deep dish, right? Two slices?” Celia approved of the order and paid a single ten dollar bill, telling Kile to keep the change. Lily muttered a ‘Thanks’, and the two girls scuffed their sneakers over to a small seat-yourself booth.

“We can’t say bad things about the pizza?” Lily questioned, and Celia shrugged, the sleeves of her orange sweatshirt crinkling. Lily sighed, “How am I supposed to make honest content if I can’t be  _ honest _ ?”

“But what if it’s good?”

“Well,” Lily drummed her fingernails on the freshly cleaned table. “Well, that’s a different story. But they basically just told us to make them the best so people will come eat their food more.”

Celia scoffed, “You interpreted that a lot differently than me.”

Lily shrugged, and didn’t push the conversation any further. Celia didn’t seem to understand that Lily wanted this documentary to be as perfect as it could, as authentic and reliable as it could be. After all, it probably counted a lot for her grade and she didn’t want her work to be seen as lowly and unplanned as Jake’s. The brunette pushed herself up off of the booth and began to shift through the contents of the backpack for her tripod and camera equipment.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily honestly had no real need to be worried. The pizza from  _ Petrelli’s _ was good, the sauce layered perfectly on top and the cheese dissolving in her mouth. Honestly, she felt that she had a good day of filming ahead of her. 

But, it was extremely short lived. Every other pizza place was insecure about Lily filming in their restaurant, worrying that “the customers will be scared by the camera and we won’t get much business”, and “we would have to get a contract in order”. Lily didn’t want to have to deal with any contracts. It would be a mess and it would shave more and more time away from her filming process. Lily slumped back home, dropping Celia off at her house and spending the rest of the day face down on the bed.

And to make it better, Pete was quietly practicing his bass in the basement next door--thank God the volume was all the way down. Maybe he had some sympathy after all.

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

As Lily logged onto MySpace the following day to flush her memory from yesterday’s failures, she procrastinated checking her notifications as much as possible.

She spent her time scrolling through her friends’ feeds, looking at how their break was going compared to her’s (very good, it seemed). She perused Rachel’s pictures from her shopping extravaganza, analyzed Emmeline’s blog post about her time swimming with the sharks, and Quentin’s updates about winter break work. Lily sighed, leaning back into the swivel chair. It bounced a few times, and turned slightly to the right, and Lily closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed like everyone but her was having a good time. It wasn’t that she was envious...okay, maybe she was a bit envious of their good times, but she wished she could be in their position. She wanted to swim with sharks, not hit her head against the wall and hear the quiet hum of Pete Wentz being an absolute idiot next door.

Just then, a  _ ding! _ from the computer resounded in her ears. Lily sat up, lifting the computer on her lap and placing it on the wooden table gently. There was another notification. She reached her hand to the plate sitting on the table and crunched a carrot stick between her teeth. As she chewed, Lily rested her hand on the mousepad of the laptop, sliding her finger so the mouse would point directly to the notifications tab. Hesitantly, she pressed down and the screen switched, slowly loading the next screen. Lily raised her eyebrows. Her parents really needed to get better WiFi. 

The screen switched, and the notifications from the past day piled on top of each other. The newest one was a private message from Emmeline, asking her how she was doing. Lily smiled; she would reply to that in a bit. Then there was the usual: notifications of updates from her friends--which she had already read--and friend notifications from people she didn’t know. She removed every notification, sloppily closing her eyes as she yawned. She kept her eyes shut for a moment. Then, she bit down on the carrot stick in her mouth and jolted awake, staring with wide eyes at the computer screen ahead. Perfect timing, because she was about to delete a friend request from Joe Trohman. She narrowed her eyes.

_How on Earth did he find me?_ _  
__I mean, he probably just searched my name...but still._

_ On a different note, he  _ still _ wants to be friends with me? _

Lily tapped her bare, unpolished toes on the carpet, grabbing another carrot stick and shoving it into her mouth. She tilted her head to the side. What would happen if she accepted? Would she be forced to hang out with him more? Would he spam her with messages asking to be his friend? If she accepted, MySpace would automatically connect her to Pete and Patrick and Andy and all of Joe’s other friends. Hell, maybe even that one security guard. And if she accepted, Rachel would be connected to Pete and Patrick and Andy and Joe and she would probably be really confused and ask Lily why the hell she was friends with Joe Trohman, the guitarist of one of her literal favorite bands, on MySpace. 

She clicked on his name, redirecting the website to Joe’s profile. To her disappointment, most of it was hidden...probably to prevent fans from stalking him--wait. She went back a page, glaring at the friend request.  _ Should I accept it? I can always block him. _ But that would bring about the drama of explaining to an annoyed Joe why she blocked him, and she was almost a hundred percent sure she would run into him again in some form or another. Her finger rested on the mousepad, the mouse wavering on the ‘decline’ button. She looked down; either way, she was fucked. She moved her hand over to the left a bit, inching closer and closer to the ‘accept’ button, and--

“Lily!”

She sprang up off of her chair and bounced on the balls of her feet, “Yeah?”

“We’re going out to dinner--let’s go!” Lily sighed, spinning back around to look at the computer. In her surprise, the mouse had shot over to the edge of the screen. The request from Joe was still at the top of the page. “Chop, chop!”

Sighing, Lily turned on her heel and dashed out of her room, snatching up her purse and bolting up the basement steps and out the front door.


	7. The Idea

Lily had another idea.

It was an incredibly stupid and far-fetched idea, and even she despised the subject of it and what it would entail, but it was something and it was scarily easy. It came just now, as she was arriving back home from dinner, sliding out of the back seat of her parents’ car. She turned her head slightly, pushing a stray piece of hair away from her field of view. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glance of the light in someone’s house being turned on, and she turned her gaze up to it. It was in the Wentz’s house, and she could see two figures talking and conversing: Pete and Patrick. Lily’s eyes widened in alarm, but not because she was afraid they would see her. No, they widened because she just got the perfect idea for her documentary and was both ecstatic and angry and slightly intimidated by the proposition.

She thought, maybe...just maybe...she could do her documentary on  _ Fall Out Boy _ .

She imagined it; she would film the rising band, see how they got ready for shows, follow their songwriting process, really get into detail of what it would be like to be in a  _ band _ . Lily’s mouth curled up into a smile and she looked away from the window, looking at her black boots as she walked along the cement-paved sidewalk to her house. This was her best idea yet, but she despised the thought of being forced to hang out with Pete and Patrick and Andy (okay...maybe not Andy) and Joe against her will, for the rest of her winter break, just so she could get a good grade that--in the long run--probably wouldn’t matter.

But she needed to get it done. Plus, her mind had been completely useless to her until this very moment; this could have been the only good idea her mind would ever fish up. 

She stormed back in the house and right down to the basement, throwing herself onto her bed and burying her face in her hands. She took a deep breath, picking her head up to stare at the screensaver of colored bubbles floating across her screen. She quirked a brow, and scuffed her shoes over to the computer and wiggled her finger on the mousepad, her previous windows reopening within seconds.

And there it was, the friend request from Joe. Honestly, while she was at dinner, she half hoped that when she came back, some miraculous force would make it go away and she wouldn’t have to make the decision. Lily refreshed the tab for good measure, but the little notification remained persistent on her way-too-bright screen. She pulled the black office chair out, sliding her butt onto the cushion and leaning forward on the brown desk. She would have to make some decisions, and soon. 

Did she want to dedicate a month of her life to hanging out with Pete Wentz? Did she want to give up this one idea that was actually somewhat good and original? Lily threw herself backwards on the chair, gazing up at the pale ceiling as if it was a sentient being that would give her advice. Would her mind give her any better ideas? She squinted her eyes, hoping and scanning her mind for any possible ideas that could grow into something,  _ anything _ better than following  _ Fall Out Boy _ around for a month.

Finally, she opened her eyes again and stared at the notification. Was she really about to get herself into this mess? She hovered her mouse over the ‘accept’ button, and, to get it over with as soon as possible, clicked it. 

_ Well...too late to turn back now. _

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily laid on her bed, staring blankly at the cream ceiling as she pondered ideas of how on Earth she was going to convince  _ Fall Out Boy _ to let her film them for a month. Well, she was pretty sure Andy and Joe would accept her and let her into their friend group...ish...but it was Pete and Patrick who would be the hard ones to convince. Pete hated every fiber of her being and Patrick wanted her not to get involved in their business. Patrick might have been easier to convince, but at the moment, it seemed Pete held a lot of control over the band and in the end, he would have the final say in whether or not she would have to find another idea.

So...how would she go about asking them? Definitely not Joe...Andy didn’t hold enough control over the band (plus he seemed rather shy for a drummer)...she sure as hell wasn’t starting off with Pete. Actually, starting off with Pete might have been a good idea. Wait, the whole fact that she hated him would probably cause some issues--bad idea. Lily stood up and began pacing around her small bedroom. Her only option was Patrick...but he would be impossible to catch. 

Wait.

She turned on her heel and slid back over to her laptop, quickly typing in the web address for MySpace and logging in. She went to Joe’s profile (it seemed he hadn’t seen her acceptance because her private messages were empty) and searched through his friends. Did Patrick have a MySpace? Or...in that case...an AIM? Because that would make this a whole lot easier. Sure, she could’ve messaged him on MySpace, but she would have to be friends with him and then Joe would see that she was friends with one of his other band mates and honestly, she didn’t want to be  _ that _ involved in their life at this point. 

She found his name, spelled out full and without any nicknames: Patrick Stump. She clicked on his profile, all of his details not hidden because of her ‘friendship’ with one of his friends. She scanned his page for other social media sites. Sure enough, there was a small section with other places you could contact him.

_ My Band’s Website _

_ My Email _

_ My AIM _

Lily fist-pumped in the air and read the username that belonged to the trucker hat, sideburns-sporting man. She opened another tab, logged into AIM, and typed in his username, which sparked up a potential chat with  _ patrickstumph27. _ The brunette laid back in her desk chair, and the notification:  _ Sorry, patrickstumph27 isn’t online right now _ , popped up on her screen. She fiddled with her thumbs, staring at the page anxiously. Would he recognize her from her username? “ _ lmwestbrook84”  _ was pretty unique...but did Patrick even know her last name? They had only spoken a few times--surely Pete had complained about her to him and used her family name...right?

Lily shook her head--he would  _ have _ to recognize her. If he didn’t, Lily would have no hope whatsoever for her project...he had to. 

For the first time ever, Lily actually, kind of wanted to talk to a member of  _ Fall Out Boy _ .

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that she got a reply.

patrickstumph27:  Lily? Pete’s neighbor Lily?

lmwestbrook84:  yup yup

patrickstumph27:  Oh

patrickstumph27:  Hi

patrickstumph27:  How r you?

lmwestbrook84:  pretty good, working on college stuff, u?

patrickstumph27:  Just got done band practice

lmwestbrook84:  coolbeans

patrickstumph27:  Hey, this may sound rude, but how did u get my AIM? Sorry i just dont remember giving it to u so

lmwestbrook84:  o yea, joe friended me on myspace

patrickstumph27:  Oh ok

patrickstumph27:  you wanna be friends with us now? or

lmwestbrook84:  well...sort of

lmwestbrook84:  that's why im messaging you

lmwestbrook84:  i need ur help

patrickstumph27:  ??

lmwestbrook84:  well u kno that documentary i need for college?

patrickstumph27:  No sorry

lmwestbrook84:  oh

lmwestbrook84:  well i have this project for my major

lmwestbrook84:  i need to make a documentary

lmwestbrook84:  and maybe it would be cool if i did a documentary on you and Fall Out Boy?

lmwestbrook84:  i kno its alot

patrickstumph27:  Wait what?

lmwestbrook84:  its a rly long story

lmwestbrook84:  can i meet you n the guys sometime to talk about it?

patrickstumph27:  Uh sure

patrickstumph27:  Were practicing at pete’s tomorrow afternoon

lmwestbrook84:  ok cool thanks so much

lmwestbook84:  actually could u come over my place after? If thats cool

patrickstumph27:  Yeah that works

lmwestbrook84:  see u then!

patrickstumph27:  Bye

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

Lily spent that night searching up the band on the internet. It was mainly to look at their tracks--she took a listen to what was an EP of theirs:  _ Evening Out With Your Girlfriend _ , and it wasn’t bad--but she ended up scrolling to the bottom of their MySpace page, and looked at their record label’s website to find out about them. It was like she wanted to make sure they were valid, and not some hoax band whose “album” was just an EP that Rachel had coincidentally stumbled on one afternoon. It was slightly more hardcore than their studio album, but she couldn’t say that she disliked it. 

\--OoO--OoO--OoO--

At one point during her minor stalking, her mother stumbled downstairs to check on her, “Hey, Lily?”

“Hm,” She minimized the window she had been looking at and darted her eyes up to meet her mother’s, “What’s up?”

“Are you doing alright? You just haven’t been around much lately.”

The brunette slumped her shoulders in response. It was true; Lily hadn’t been hanging out with her parents as much, despite being in the same house as them, and she never told them when she was going out. But then again, she was an adult now...she didn’t really have to do these things, but she knew her mother really cared about her. She had been stressed, after all, with the staying up and the band and the documentary. And she knew her life was going to get a hell of a lot more stressful when she would have to hang around with them for the next month of her life. “Yeah, yeah, I’m doing alright, I guess…” Her mother quirked a brow. “Schoolwork been a bitch--I, I mean a pain in the butt,” Lily shook her head and closed her computer quietly.

“The whole documentary thing?” Lily nodded. “Oh, honey, you should take a break from that,” her mother’s eyes flashed with excitement, and she rested a hand on Lily’s shoulder, “Tell you what...how about tomorrow we bake Christmas cookies?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Christmas was in a week and a half, and even with all of the Christmas decorations adorning the house and the fact that she had neatly wrapped gifts piled in the corner of her bedroom, Lily wasn’t feeling much of the holiday spirit. Maybe some baking would be a nice break from it all. But...she was meeting Patrick and Pete and Joe and Andy tomorrow, and--shit--they were coming over to her house.

“About that...” Lily looked down to the carpet, “I’d really, really love to…”

“But?”

“ _ But _ \--it’s about the documentary--I kind of invited some people I was planning on possibly filming for the documentary over tomorrow afternoon?” Lily frowned, “I wish I could. Oh, and also, there’s the warning that people are coming over tomorrow…”

“We could bake the cookies in the morning.”

“Really?”

Lily’s mother put on a warm smile, “Of course. Plus, we can give some to whoever’s coming over tomorrow. Who is it?”

Lily gulped. It was Joe. It was fucking Joe Trohman (the person her mother knew too well) and Pete Wentz (who Lily clearly hated and her mother clearly loved). Hopefully Patrick and Andy would give good first impressions...they probably would.

“It’s a local band-- _ Fall Out Boy _ , uh, you know Pete from next door?” Her mother nodded in recognition. “Well, it’s his band...and Joe, from the movies, well he’s in it too...and I had been actually talking to Pete at the party about possibly doing it…” she knew she was lying plainly to her mother at this point, but she honestly didn’t need to know all of the shit that had happened since that Christmas party, did she? “And he agreed to bring the guys to come talk to me about it tomorrow after their band practice...is that okay with you?”

“Yeah...thanks for telling me,” Lily’s mother stood up and turned to leave the room, her bare feet making soft pats on the carpet, but then she stopped and turned back around. Lily, already with her computer again, stopped mid-movement. “You know, if you ever need to talk about anything, your father and I are here. Just because you’re all grown up doesn’t mean we don’t want to help.”

“I know,” Lily nodded and gave her a small smile, “Thanks, mom.”

“Always.”

Her mother left the room, leaving the slight creak of the door shutting and the slight ray of comfort she brought disappearing from the room. Lily felt anxious again, and turned right back to researching the band that would most likely determine her final film grade.

She really needed to stop putting parts of her fate into their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this was the last chapter sophomore year me wrote! I wasn't planning on continuing this, but if you guys reaaaallllyyyy want more I have a bit of Chapter 8 written and I would be willing to start working on this again. Just let me know! Hope all of you have a good day :)


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